


Having Your Cake (And Eating Him Too)

by Phoenixstrike



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom!Harry, M/M, PWP, Smut, misuse of chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixstrike/pseuds/Phoenixstrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is a rubbish cook, as his attempt at baking Harry a birthday cake demonstrates. Harry doesn't seem to mind. Smut-filled PWP written to celebrate Harry Potter's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Having Your Cake (And Eating Him Too)

**Author's Note:**

> _Harry Potter and all its indicia are © JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. I own none of the copyright, and this fanfiction makes no money._ __
> 
> **A/N:** This is a very short PWP story, written to honour Harry Potter’s 33rd birthday, which was obviouly in July, not February (unless Trelawney was right, and he was born mid-winter). However I'm forgetful, and for some reason I didn't upload this here when I originally posted this. As a general rule I don’t read or write PWP, but this was a special request from a friend. So, Brittany, this one is for you.
> 
> _****_
> 
> ____________

“Oh for fuck’s sake- _Evanesco!_ ”

Harry grins as he steps out of the fireplace, wondering what has caused his boyfriend’s potty mouth this time. He brushes the soot and Floo powder off his Auror robes, before discarding them and tossing them lazily over the back of the sofa. They immediately slide back off and onto the floor, but Harry pays them no mind; Draco is still turning the air blue with a string of extremely colourful expletives, and he really wants to know why.

Harry traces the swearing to their kitchen. The door is half-open, and Harry stands in the doorway, observing the scene in front of him, desperately trying not to laugh. Draco has covered every single surface in flour, giving the appearance of a crack den instead of a kitchen, there are several broken eggs scattered over both the work surfaces and the stone tiles on the floor, and the cookbook which Draco has suspended in mid-air looks like it has seen better days, given that it’s now covered in a thick, sticky clump which Harry suspects was an attempt at a cake mix. There are mixing bowls, and wooden spoons, and small jars and packets sprawled out everywhere, and Harry doesn’t think the kitchen has ever been in such a shocking state before. But the best part of all is Draco himself, who is flushed with effort, has flour, butter and milk in his hair- which has formed a paste and caused his hair to stick up at gravity-defying angles giving him the appearance of a mad scientist- and a large smear of chocolate running across his naked chest. Harry licks his lips at the sight as he feels his cock give an appreciative twitch. 

“You know, Draco, for someone with your Potions talent, you’re incredibly shit at cooking,” Harry says, surveying once more the wreckage that used to be his kitchen, and Draco jumps violently, clearly having had no idea Harry was home from work. 

“Fuck, you’re early,” Draco says, clearly still startled. He wipes his hands on the front of his already filthy trousers. “I was trying to surprise you.”

“It’s already half past five, and what were you trying to surprise me with? Giving me the impression of Christmas in our kitchen? In July?” Harry replies, motioning towards the snow-like white dusting of flour coating the room. 

“No, you git. I was trying to make you a birthday cake,” Draco says, flustered. The look just melts Harry’s heart even further. “Evidently, I fucked it up.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry says, walking closer towards his skittish lover. “The ‘covered in chocolate’ look really suits you.” He pokes out his tongue and laps at the chocolate, which is smeared just below Draco’s breastbone. He hums in contentment as the bitter-sweet burst of chocolate reaches his taste buds, and he gently sucks at the flesh below it, leaving a slightly red mark behind. Draco’s breath hitches. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. Harry stares at him, eyebrow raised, and a small crooked smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“What do you think I’m doing, Draco? I’m eating my cake,” he says. He dips two fingers into the bowl of melted chocolate which is balanced messily on the side, still slightly warm, and runs them down Draco’s chest, in a vertical line from his Adam’s apple to the line of pale hair just above the waistband of his trousers, smearing chocolate in a thick, delicious line. “Mmm. Chocolate. My favourite.” He licks a long, wet stripe across the entire length of Draco’s torso wiping his skin clean, as one hand folds itself into Draco’s cake mix-encrusted hair. “You taste fantastic.”

Harry notices that his own cock isn’t the only one who has appreciated his efforts; Harry can feel that Draco is hard now too, and he’s giving small, involuntary thrusts of his hips as he bucks into Harry’s touch. He licks back up Draco’s stomach, his chest, then finally his neck, before peppering kisses across Draco’s jaw, then pressing their mouths together, as the hand woven into Draco’s hair tightens.

Draco clearly isn’t in the mood to take this slow and gentle, for he’s walking Harry backwards until he’s pressed against the kitchen door, his tongue is instantly and impatiently probing Harry’s mouth, helping himself to the remnants of chocolate on Harry’s tongue, and pulling on his bottom lip impatiently with his teeth. His hands are already fumbling with the fly on Harry’s trousers, and Harry takes the hint, removing his own hands from Draco’s hair to tackle Draco’s own fly. It’s not long before they’re both standing completely naked, clothing pooled around their ankles and getting covered in failed attempts at cake mix, kissing like a pair of randy teenagers, rather than the men of thirty-three they both are, cocks sliding together, and it feels heavenly. 

“ _Accio Chocolate_ ,” Harry calls with a wicked grin, and the bowl of chocolate zooms the few feet into his ready hand. He scoops out a small handful of it, then reaches down with his hand, grabbing Draco’s erection, and smears it in the treat. Draco gasps and bucks, a hiss of pleading escaping his lips, and Harry dutifully complies, falling to his knees and sinking lower until Draco’s chocolate-smeared erection is at his eye level. “Merlin, Draco, you look absolutely fucking delectable.” Then he leans forward, pokes out his tongue, and begins to lick. 

Draco gives a strangled moan of pleasure as Harry’s tongue works him, removing the chocolate from his swollen cock with expertise. Harry’s eyes are open, and he’s staring into Draco’s slightly stupefied face as he sucks him clean, the bitter saltiness of pre-come mingling with the sweetness of the sugar on his tongue. He hums in contentment, knowing as he does so that the vibrations from his voice box will be bringing Draco even closer to release. 

“Harry, oh, gods,” Draco gasps, and Harry can feel his thighs trembling with the effort of remaining upright. Draco’s close to coming now, Harry knows this, and with a final lick to remove the last trace of chocolate from Draco’s erection, he pulls away, earning himself a string of frustrated expletives as a result. 

“Patience,” Harry sooths, standing back up and taking Draco into a fiery kiss. “You know I’m not going to leave you like that. It’s my birthday, and surely the birthday boy gets to call the shots? And I don’t want you to come until we’re fucking.”

He momentarily considers Apparating them to their bedroom, but decides that it’s just too much effort. Instead he lowers them both to the flour-covered floor, placing himself so he’s sitting atop Draco, and they continue kissing, hands roaming over hard muscles and taught skin. Harry sits up and Summons the small bottle of olive oil which was next to the bag of sugar, and thrusts it into Draco’s hand. Draco grins and untwists the cap, tossing it aside before pouring a small amount of oil into his palm. He rubs his hands together to spread the oil, and then grips Harry’s neglected erection, coating it in slippery oil. Harry moans and shudders and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surges through him as Draco works his cock, whilst the long, slender fingers of his left hand, sick with oil, snake around his back and down to his arse. He leans forwards into Draco’s chest, giving Draco better access, and his breath catches when he feels Draco slipping two fingers into him. 

“More,” he pants as he begins to lift his hips, sliding himself up and down on Draco’s fingers, relishing the stretch. Draco complies, brushing that secret spot inside Harry, and Harry shivers. He can feel Draco’s erection pressing against his left buttock, thick and heavy and desperate, and it’s all completely wonderful. Draco is still stroking him, the pleasure is mounting, and he needs to stop this now, otherwise it’ll be over before it can begin.

“Enough,” he says. Draco withdraws his fingers but doesn’t relinquish his grip on Harry’s erection. He takes his own cock in his hand and holds it in position, brushing it suggestively against Harry’s skin. Harry spends a few seconds kissing Draco before lifting up his hips and sinking down onto his lover’s erection in one go. Draco gives a strangled sound and his eyes flutter closed. Harry wraps an arm around Draco’s neck, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow, and begins to move. It’s not going to take long, for either of them; it’s fast, and hard, and completely perfect. He repeatedly lifts his hips, until Draco almost slips out, then sinks back down quickly, the rush of exhilaration threatening to explode his mind. His breathing is ragged now and coming in uneven, laboured pants. Draco is still gripping him firmly, sliding his oiled hand across his hard flesh, his cock brushing against his prostate with every stroke. The fire ignites in his stomach and is an inferno throughout his body within seconds; with a final strangled cry, Harry comes, clenching around Draco and tipping him over the edge with him, his mouth falling open as he gasps through his orgasm. 

Spent, Harry collapses on top of his breathless lover, their sweat-covered chests sliding against each other, as they both try and get their breathing under control. Harry notices a blob of cake mix lodged behind Draco’s right ear and licks it away, nibbling gently on his ear as he does so. 

“We need to clean this mess up,” he says reluctantly. “We’re meeting everyone in less than an hour.” He stands up, already missing the feeling of Draco inside him, and picks his wand up from the floor. He quickly casts a few Cleaning Charms, and within minutes their kitchen is spotlessly tidy again. The same cannot be said about them; Draco has traces of chocolate smeared all over him, not to mention Harry’s semen on his chest and cake mix in his hair, whilst Harry has the evidence of their coupling running down his thigh whilst his hair is wet with perspiration and matted to his head. He looks at them both and grins. “We also need a shower.”

They arrive at the restaurant in good time, surprisingly, both clean and showing no indication of their earlier activities, and enjoy a lovely dinner with their friends. At the end of the meal, the waiters bring out a large iced birthday cake, complete with thirty-three candles all glowing with different coloured flames. He takes a huge breath, and somehow manages to blow them out in one go. The waiter takes the cake to the table, and slices it. 

The cake is chocolate. Harry’s cheeks flush, but he dutifully eats his slice, whilst Draco sniggers next to him. Hermione gives them both an omniscient look. 

“Box the rest of it up, please,” Draco informs the waiting staff. Then, for Harry’s ears only, he says, “I have some rather interesting plans later on for that cake.”

Harry grins, and thinks that it has been a rather wonderful birthday, all things considered. 


End file.
